Like Trying to Hold Sand

Fandom/Pairing: Naruto, Sasori/Kankuro

Universe: Sandscapes

Title: Like Trying to Hold Sand

Author: ursweetheartles

Rating: PG-13 here

Warnings: shota, sunagakure centric, past AU

Status: part one of something


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Sunagakure was a quiet village, as hidden villages went. It wasn't the most pleasant, and due to it's nature as hidden village it didn't get many visitors at all. It was never a fun place to be, not really enjoyable. The desert sun baked in mercilessly during the daylight hours, and at night the temperature dropped to freezing lows. The wind whipped around outside the walls, but some ninja long ago had cast a seal over it, so the wind didn't get inside. Still, the sand for which the village was named was everywhere, and got into everything. It crunched in your mouth when you ate anything, it built up in piles in the corners of every room, it wormed its way into the pockets of your clothing, underneath it to, rubbing and chafing against your skin until it hurt, always flying into your eyes.


Kankuro hated it there, for the most part. His father was the Kazekage, the leader of the hidden village of the sand, and that alloted him some special privelages, but they didn't interest him much. He was a child still, only 8 years old for a good month now, and he was bored out of his mind most of the time.


He was the middle child, and as such he was mostly ignored. His sister Temari, being the oldest, and smartest of the three, got a fair amount of attention just for being herself. She was only a year older than him, and not that far ahead in her ninjitsu, but it was enough that she was always the praised one. Kankuro worked hard, for the most part, but whenever he caught up with her on something the teachers would just shake their heads and throw him patronizing smiles, telling him to work harder, push himself further, and one day he might be as good as her.


It was his younger brother who got the most attention though. He was a prodigy, ahead in everything, even with the two year advantage his siblings had on him. Gaara was Suna's living weapon, and ultimate defense and a means to secure their future. The people around them didn't love Gaara like they loved Temari, they feared him, which was worse. Everyone whispered as he walked past, speaking in hushed voices and covert glances, not wanting to upset him.


Kankuro got lost in the middle though, not the oldest, not the youngest, not the strongest, or the worst. He did everything expected of him, and he still came out average, not bad, but almost always only good enough. He would always be the last in line, the one to fall back on if all else failed. Everyone assumed that one day Temari would become the Kazekage, as Gaara was never quite stable enough to hold such power. He would, however, be the second in command, and if he ever did growinto himself, control the demon that dwelt inside of him, he would be the next leader himself. Some days, he enjoyed this though, because it meant he could sink into the background, let himself be ignored. Life was easier that way, he didn't have to deal with the whispers or the compliments, the ritual and pomp of being least probable heir to the kage chair, but still in that line.


It was one of those afternoons, hot and dry and miserable, where Kankuro found himself staring listlessly out into the desert beyond, watching the sand throw itself around in the wind, wishing he was that light, wishing he could step outside the walls and give himself over to the wind and be carried away. He sighed, a jaded voice in the back of his head telling him that wasn't possible and that he shouldn't waste his time thinking about such things.


Still, he'd finished his training for the day, he'd sparred with Temari afterwards, only stopping when the sun hit it's peak and it was time for lunch, and a nap through the hottest parts of the day. Now the sun was going down across the desert, sparkling like a mirage or the northern lights. He'd heard they were beautiful, but he'd never seen them. He'd never been out of the country of the wind. Someday he hoped to leave though, once one of his siblings was securely ensconced in the Kasekage chair, and the future of Suna was secure.


He was so lost in his thoughts of the future that he didn't hear the man sneaking up behind him until there was a kunai at his throat. He froze, feeling a familiar presence looming behind him, red hair falling forwards into his field of vision as the man leaned forwards, breath hot and wet on his ear making him shiver.


"You shouldn't let your guard down like that, Kankuro-chan. If I were an enemy nin you would be dead right now." Kankuro felt the little tingles running down his spine as he fought to stay still, not wanting to cut himself accidentally. He sighed though, still staring out at the swirling sand in the distance.


"It's not like it would matter really, I doubt anyone would miss me much, I'm not very important after all." The kunai was cool against his skin for a single long heartbeat before it was withdrawn, and he felt himself being gathered into a loose hug.


"Don't say that, Kankuro-chan. I'd miss you if you were gone. Things would be horribly boring without you." Kankuro let himself smile, turning to the side to rest his forehead on the man's chest.


"I know, I'm sorry, Sasori-san. I just get a little antsy at times." The man smiled down at him then, green eyes refracting the light from the setting sun. The only person Kankuro ever really spent time with outside of training was Sasori. He was a genius, a powerful shinobi, and a craftsmen, no an artist, and he was good at what he did. What Sasori did was make puppets.


They had always fascinated Kankuro, ever since he'd first seen them. He had been quite young when he'd first stumbled upon Sasori's workshop, and it had frightened him a little at first, but that quickly faded. He liked the way the puppets hung on the wall, lifeless and inanimate but still strangely beautiful. He liked watching Sasori bend and sculpt, transforming the raw materials into objects of beauty, things he could put his hands on. He liked tracing the edges of the puppets, where they were joined together, where they bent and where they came apart. The mechanics fascinated him, how they moved and danced.


His favorite thing, though, was making them come to life, knowing that with a little of his own chakra he could make the puppet do whatever he wanted. This was exciting to him, he didn't have any actual friends, he was too important to wander around the city unattended, playing with the children there, but not important enough to warrant the assigned playmates his brother had. Not that any of those stuck around long, Gaara was short tempered and surly most of the time, and he would send them away quickly.


No, the only person Kankuro saw on a regular basis outside of his training and duties was Sasori. He supposed that made Sasori his friend, but it wasn't the same. he couldn't play the games the other children played in the streets below his window, he couldn't sit up late giggling and eating marshmellows. Sasori didn't do any of those things.


But that was okay with him, because it meant that he got to watch the man work, drawing these beautiful forms from the materials he gathered, from wood and stone, clay and metal. The man honed the edges and smoothed the planes until beautiful forms emerged, each one balanced with a function, each one making these toys deadly, and all the more entrancing for it.


He also liked to feel Sasori's arms around him, even though he knew his parents wouldn't approve, no one in this stupid tower would approve. He didn't care though, he kept these things secret, like Sasori told him to, but he never gave them up, he couldn't give them up. These moments kept him sane.


He pressed his face into the man's robes, over his chest, loving the feeling of the cotton against his skin, worn soft and smooth with time and sun and sand, like everything else out here. He breathed in the man's scent, oil and musk, steel and darkness. It was nice, it made his heart beat a little bit faster. He felt the rumble of Sasori's voice against his cheek before he heard it.


"I have a new puppet downstairs, I made it this afternoon. It's about your size, I would think, wanna come down and give it a try?" Kankuro jumped away from Sasori a little in his excitement, eyes widening and mouth twisting into a real smile. Sasori laughed at his enthusiasm, and Kankuro jumped on him again, this time almost unbalancing him, wrapping his short arms around the man's pale neck.


"Really? Wow!" Sasori's chuckles still echoed through his chest, as he wrapped his arms around the boy's waist, hoisting him upwards until he could hold the boy, resting his weight on one hip.


"Yeah really. I know you're having a little trouble with the big one's, but they're bigger than you so thats understandable." He punctuated the statement with a little tap on the boy's nose with his free hand. Kankuro blushed a little. "Hey, don't worry, it's nothing a little practice won't fix, right? And now that you have something you can work with, it should be easier to work the bog ones next time."


The boy nodded, squirming in delight in the man's arms, laying his head down on one pale shoulder, letting his breath skitter across the man's neck. He smiled as Sasori turned, carrying him back towards the stairs that lead down the the man's workshop.

X

Despite the cooler air in the little basement room Sasori built his puppets in, Kankuro was sweating by the time he'd finished. He smiled so wide he thought his face might split in two. He'd done it, he'd had that puppet in front of him, and he'd kept complete control over it. It had taken a lot of chakra and energy, but he'd done it. He turned to Sasori, who was seated on the workbench across the room and smiled, flushed and panting. His hair was wild, sticking to the skin around his face a little. But he felt nothing but joy.


"Good job, Kankuro! Your control was perfect, if you practice with this one for a week or two, I think you'll be controlled enough to use on of the big puppets." The boy practically beamed at that. He wasn't used to compliments, and hearing them made his chest swell a little. He couldn't care less if his teachers or the townsfolk around them ever said anything nice about him, very honestly. But he respected Sasori, and if Sasori said he was good, then he must be good.


He ran over to the man, puppet in one hand, and jumped up to hang it back where it had come from. He jumped down then, and climbed into Sasori's lap, nuzzling the man's shoulder, letting his arms fall around the man's neck once more. Sasori just smiled, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling back.


"Sasori-san..." Kankuro's voice was quiet, tentative. The man reached one hand up to pet his hair.


"Yes?" He said after a moment of silence.


"I - can we, uh. Will you play a game with me?" Kankuro flinched at how weak he sounded, how young and nervous. He wasn't sitting around with some stupid kid his own age, he was sitting here with a man. he had to act like an adult, prove he was mature enough for Sasori's company. The man smiled.


"Sure. Do you have anything specific in mind, Kankuro-chan?" The boy hesitated. He didn't really know any games, he didn't play with anyone. He shook his head silently before hiding a slight blush in the crook of Sasori's shoulder. The man smiled. "I have a game we can play, Kankuro-chan!"


The boy sat up then, grinning enthusiastically. Sasori was so cool, he must have hundreds of friends to play with, and they must have awesome games. He let his hands trail down to fidget with the neck seam on the man's robes a little, nervously.


"W-will you teach me?" He asked, quietly, embarrassed at his own ignorance. Sasori just smiled, bringing one hand up to gently slide underneath Kankuro's ever present hat, combing along the boy's scalp, massaging gently.


"Of course I will Kankuro. I know you'll love this game, but first, you have to relax." Kankuro let his eyes slide shut, focusing on relaxing. The hand in his hair made that task ridiculously easy. He leaned into the touch unconsciously, missing the small smirk that spread over Sasori's lips and his lips fell open slightly in concentration.


"Relax" Sasori's voice was deep and quiet, nothing more than a whisper as he let his hand fall from the boy's hair to cupping his cheek. He turned the boy's pale face towards him, looking down at small eyes still closed tightly.


The boy gasped a little when Sasori pressed his own lips over his, firmly but gently. Kankuro could feel them, chapped and warm and comforting. He relaxed again, opening his mouth at the gentle urgings of the older man's tongue, letting out a whispering moan when the warm muscle entered his mouth, rubbing up against his own, exploring the corners and crevices, his smooth teeth and the texture of the inside of his cheeks. Kankuro shuddered slightly, it felt good, really good. It felt like Sasori accepting him, holding him closer than he'd ever been held by anyone.


The contact made him a little nervous, but the fact that it was Sasori let him relax. Anyone else and he probably would have bitten their tongue off by now. But it wasn't, it was Sasori, so he relaxed into it, leaning forwards, fisting his hands in the man's shirt, trying not to moan at the slip of wet muscle on wet muscle.


Sasori brings one pale hand, the one not fisted again in Kankuro's hair, up to ghost over the boy's side, rubbing slow circles over his shirt, before falling once more, and coming back up, underneath the fabric now, on hot, bare skin. The boy gasped into Sasori's mouth when he felt those fingers play across his nipples, pinching gently until they were both hard. He shivered, letting his head loll backwards, allowing Sasori the opportunity to latch his mouth on the boy's pale neck, sucking a bit more harshly than he had before, biting down a little, leaving a purpling mark against pale skin. He sat back to admire it for a second before whipping the boy's shirt over his head, exposing his chest to the cooling air around them.


Night was coming, and the heat was seeping out through the baked clay walls of the workshop. This was fine with them, because it was getting awfully hot in that little room. Kankuro gasped again, louder, more throatily as Sasori's mouth danced across the skin of his shoulder, around the curve of his neck and up, over the steady pulse of his jugular vein.


He mewled lightly when Sasori pulled away, cokcing his head to the side, listening. He paused, and he could feel the pulse of familiar chakra in the hallway outside. His heart started racing, it was Gaara. As much time as he spent with his brother, the younger boy still scared the shit out of him. He couldn't help the breath that caught in his throat.


Part of him wanted his brother to walk in and find them, he wanted to let the boy know that he had friends outside of him, that he knew things Gaara didn't. That part, however, was squashed by the bigger squirming in his chest. He didn't want anyone in this tower to know, least of all his brother, because then they could take this away from him. Kankuro thought he might go insane without this.


He looked up at Sasori almost apologetically before twisting, sliding himself backwards and off of the man's lap, grabbing for his fallen shirt and slipping it over his head silently. He could hear the footsteps coming closer, and he tried to slow his breathing, looking up at Sasori once more. He didn't even look ruffled, sitting there as calmly as ever. With a quick peck on the man's pale cheek, affectionate but chaste, Kankuro turned and walked to the door, sliding it open silently, arranging his face into a mask of surprise when he saw Gaara coming towards him.


His brother studied him with dispassionate eyes for a second before turning away. Kankuro let himself breathe again then, trying to steady his chakra flow as he cast one backwards glance at Sasori, apologetic and longing. He slipped out the door then, and into the cool basement hallway.